


Passive, But Still Aggressive

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anniversary, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Romance, mention of alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10239389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: Sebastian forgets an important anniversary. Kurt doesn't. And Kurt handles it ... well, like Kurt.





	

Sebastian pulls his Porsche into underground parking, rolling in at about five miles below the speed limit. He stays between the lines, conscientiously following the yellow arrows that lead to his assigned spot, taking his time to maneuver his car into the dead center of his space. He’s stalling, and since he’s alone, he won’t bother denying it. He seriously considers sleeping here the seven hours until morning … in his car … underground. He’d wake up with a crick in his neck and a kink in his back, but he’d deserve it.

Kurt had expected Sebastian home hours ago. They were supposed to have dinner together. They eat dinner together most every night, but Kurt had stressed the fact that tonight they _needed_ to have dinner together. He emphasized it not only like it was _important_ , but like Sebastian should know _why_ it was important.

But Sebastian didn’t catch on, even when the universe itself tried to give him clues.

He misplaced his wedding ring twice today. Sebastian never misplaces his wedding ring because he never takes it off. But he had to today _twice_ – once when he accidentally stuck his hand in maple syrup, and the second time when a blue ballpoint pen exploded in his hand. He had to take his ring off both times to clean it, and then promptly misplaced it, but only for a minute – long enough to give his heart a jolt.

That should have been the only clue he needed, but being a rather dense male, it wasn’t.

The wedding party limo that passed him on the highway, decorated with white paper bells and silver tinsel, should have been his second clue. But when Sebastian saw it, he rolled his eyes, thankful that on _their_ wedding day, he and his husband were able to escape the reception for the airport in his Porsche instead of taking the limo that his groomsmen had decorated with hundreds of inflated condoms.

The Heppermyer’s 50th Anniversary celebration, taking place at a table not too far from his during the dinner he should have been sharing with Kurt, should have been the hammer that clobbered him over his thick skull. He even sent a bottle of champagne to the happy couple’s table, and they sent him a piece of their cake – a green tea flavored Japanese inspired confection that he thought for sure that Kurt would enjoy.

But, ironically, it didn’t.

Kurt’s uncharacteristic radio silence after two, “Where are you?” texts didn’t do it, either.

No. Unfortunately it wasn’t until Sebastian left the strip club (girl dancers only so he felt safe entertaining there) and the song “I Have Nothing” by Whitney Houston came on his iPod over the car’s speakers that it hit him.

When Whitney sang the verse, “I have nothing if I don’t have you,” it hit him hard.

Today (technically yesterday, but Sebastian was leaping over shock and starting in the denial stage), was his and Kurt’s fifth wedding anniversary. The wood anniversary - oddly appropriate since Sebastian Smythe was officially a humongous block head.

But instead of realizing early enough to come home and salvage the night (by the skin of his teeth the way he usually does), it’s after 1:30 a.m. when Sebastian returns home from his new client meeting.

He could have bowed out hours ago; this client in particular wasn’t _that_ important.

 _Nothing’s_ as important as his husband.

But Sebastian was having a moment.

He was riding high on scoring a win, so to speak, which came with it a moment of, “Why do I have to answer to anybody?” and, “I’m a grown man, I’ll do what I want.” Both of those moments may have been fueled by adrenaline and alcohol, but they were still significant at the time.

“It’s only the fifth year anniversary,” Sebastian consoles himself, making the decision to leave his car, go up to their penthouse, and face the music. He feels to onset of a mild hangover coming on (mostly from the adrenaline – he only had two beers, and he’d burned those off before he got behind the wheel). Plus, he has to shower. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and even though he didn’t order a lap dance, he somehow managed to come home wearing glitter. “How big a deal can someone make over a _wood_ themed anniversary?”

Sebastian apparently forgot for a second _who_ he was married to until he opened the front door and got a great, big, cedar-scented reminder.

Positioned five feet in front of the door, so it would be the first thing Sebastian would see when he got home, sits a round table draped in a white cloth, and covered in gifts. A handful of them are wrapped, but after seeing the ones that aren’t, the ones that are simply set up on display, he’s not sure he wants to see the wrapped ones. The ones he _can_ see are so perfect and sentimental, the wrapped ones must surely be devastating.

In the center of the table is a polished wood vase, carved with Celtic knots, with a bouquet of red paper roses inside. Sebastian knows Kurt made the roses. They’d taken an origami class together at the Museum of Natural History about a year ago. Kurt excelled at it. Every chance he got, he practiced the craft, creating swans and cranes and little nesting boxes every time his hands got bored. Sebastian, however, could only manage a frog. It hopped to the left once, landed sideways, then never hopped again.

Next to the vase, he sees a wooden photo album that has their names and wedding date burned onto the cover, along with a mandala so intricate he can only imagine it took months to create. The album doesn’t close flat, bursting with pages Sebastian knows Kurt scrapbooked himself. Beside that sits a wooden plaque, again with their names burned into it, and on individual slats below that, important dates from their relationship. For most people, it would probably start with “first date”, but Kurt has listed “first fight”, then “first date”, “first _I love you_ ”, “first time”, the day Sebastian asked Kurt to marry him, the date they got married, followed by a handful of empty slats, presumably for special dates to come (provided their marriage doesn’t end tonight). He sees a wood wine rack filled with his favorite imported beer; a hand painted sign (in Kurt’s crisp but chaotic writing) that reads – _I love you. You annoy me more than I ever thought possible, but I want to spend every irritating minute with you_ ; and a neatly constructed Jenga tower, each block of this version bearing penned words along the side describing something dirty they could do to one another – things they could have been doing to one another all night long if Sebastian hadn’t been such an imbecile.

Sebastian sighs, breathing in and catching a whiff of a final touch that might bring him to tears. While he had been munching on subpar Chicken Alfredo in a hotel restaurant, Kurt had made Sebastian’s favorite – parchment wrapped salmon and burgundy poached pears.

And for Kurt on this special day, Sebastian has only his sad self, smelling like liquor, covered in glitter, with a grand total of nothing planned. He hadn’t even remembered to stop by somewhere to pick up a pathetic apology bouquet.

Of course, he never would have imagined how much he’d have to apologize for.

 _Oh dear God_ , Sebastian thinks to himself. _I really dropped the ball on this one._

Sebastian has no idea what to do – absolutely no idea. He hasn’t heard Kurt yet. Maybe he’s asleep. That would give Sebastian time to run back out and try to find him … something. But what? Anything that Sebastian could buy at a gas station or a Walmart would be an insult to the exceptional and thoughtful gifts that Kurt had obviously taken months to put together.

He could take a shower, slip into bed, and feign illness – claim that the tuna tartar he ate at lunch gave him an epic case of the shits and he was stuck at the office till just an hour ago. Then he could stay home tomorrow, email his personal shopper and tell her to break the bank, up her commission and just go gaga.

Gaga! Lady Gaga! Kurt’s still head over heels for her. And Sebastian’s heard that if you slip her foundation a couple mill, she’ll come have dinner with you. Before he can jump on his iPhone to check if that’s true, he catches a tired and unhappy Kurt peeking out from their bedroom. Sebastian’s stomach lurches, which he takes as a sign, so he goes with his gut.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rushing past the table of wonderful presents and heading towards his husband with arms outstretched. “I am so, so, so sorry. I …” He was about to say that he completely forgot, but that would be heartbreaking. “I have no excuse,” he goes for instead as Kurt slowly steps out, walking towards Sebastian with red eyes and a wobbly lower lip “I ... it’s just, I brought in a new client at work, and I was so excited, I …”

Kurt walks up to Sebastian with a mixed expression in his eyes. Sebastian doesn’t know what he’s thinking, or what he’s about to do. On one hand, Sebastian expects Kurt to break down and start crying.

On the other hand, he can also see Kurt kicking him in the balls and punching him in the nose.

“It’s been a while since I’ve brought in a new client at work,” Sebastian continues, trying to earn sympathy he doesn’t deserve. He’s telling the truth, but it feels like he’s chumping out, “and I thought …”

Kurt puts delicate fingers to Sebastian’s lips and shushes him. “Sebastian,” Kurt says in a thick voice that’s incredibly even, “I understand.”

Sebastian scrunches his nose, looking at Kurt as if he’s never seen this man before. Where’s the high-pitched wail? Where’s the crossed arms? Where’s the splotchy red cheeks? “You … you do?”

“Yes. I do,” Kurt says, tight smile notwithstanding. “I talked to your secretary. She told me everything. I know this account was important to you. And even though it’s our anniversary, and I must have reminded you that tonight was important a dozen times, it’s alright that you went out and wooed your client instead.”

“It … it is?”

“Yes.” The shadow of a scowl plays on Kurt’s lips as he runs a finger down the slope of Sebastian’s shoulder, picking up traces of glitter and sweeping it away. “It is.”

“So, we’re … we’re cool?”

“Of course, we’re cool. We’ll … just … let it lie for now, and celebrate tonight … _right_?” It sounds more like a threat than a compromise, but Sebastian is in no position to turn it down.

“Right,” Sebastian says. “Absolutely.” Sebastian takes Kurt’s arms, feeling bolder since Kurt’s being so lenient. “I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant, your favorite nightclub, and we’ll spend the evening living it up. Just you and me. I’ll even rent a limo.” He pulls Kurt in to his embrace and nuzzles his husband’s neck. “We can feed each other strawberries, drink some champagne … we’ll tell the driver to put the partition up, crank the music on high, and we can go for a drive … a nice _long_ drive …”

“Sounds great.” Kurt lets Sebastian kiss him on the lips. _Or it will sound great,_ his tone relays, _after I’ve slept, and after you’ve made this up to me._

“I’m gonna go get out of my suit and take a shower,” Sebastian whispers seductively. “You wanna join me?”

“Sure. Why not?” Kurt says it, but he doesn’t sound too happy about it. “Let me just get dinner put away. _We can eat it later_.” Another threat, but Sebastian’s just happy this is resolving itself painlessly.

It’s a little creepy, but Sebastian’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Kurt pats Sebastian on the arm, then walks past him to the kitchen. Sebastian waits, watches Kurt go before he heads for their bedroom to take off his suit and get his pajamas. _Well, that was … interesting,_ he thinks. He’s tempted to pat himself on the back for that one, revel in getting away from his heinous act without a scratch, but he can’t, because all he can think about is his excited husband putting together that fabulous dinner, setting up that table full of gifts, probably dressing up in one of his gorgeous designer suits, and then waiting all night for his louse of a husband to get home.

And when he didn’t, Kurt got upset. Of course, he got upset. He was livid. He cursed, called Sebastian ever name in the book. Maybe he even considered packing up a bag and going to a hotel.

He definitely cried.

And yet, here they were, preparing to take a shower together, and Sebastian can’t help feeling lucky that they’ve finally gotten to a point where Kurt doesn’t fly off the handle when Sebastian makes a mistake. Because they’re only five years into this. Sebastian’s pretty damned sure that he’s going to make plenty more mistakes.

Thankfully, Sebastian married a fair and even-tempered man.

But …

… it hasn’t always been that way, and Sebastian can’t imagine why the change, the _sudden_ change, especially tonight. And that kind of bothers him. It feels like the calm before the storm.

So, if this is the calm, when’s the storm going to hit?

Sebastian goes to their room. He sheds his suit and hangs it in a bag, trying his best not to rain glitter all over their wood floor. He’s going to have to pay extra to get that glitter out. He sweeps up the detritus so that Kurt won’t have to see it in the morning. Hopefully a good night’s … or morning’s … sleep is all he’ll need to smooth out the rough patches that are still being rubbed raw. But Sebastian has to fix this. He has to think of something that will equal that table full of presents and all the thought that went into them.

He opens his underwear drawer. He’d normally go to sleep naked but tonight that might not be the way to go. When he pulls out a pair of briefs, he discovers that that’s a good call. The storm _has_ hit, and the casualties are numerous.

He grabs a pair of his underwear and heads towards the kitchen. Kurt’s just about finished putting dinner away, piling Tupperware in neat stacks on the middle shelf.

Sebastian clears his throat.

“Yes?” Kurt turns. Sebastian holds up a pair of his briefs … from the hole cut in the crotch.

Kurt doesn’t acknowledge the defiled underwear, just looks straight into Sebastian’s eyes with an eerie calm.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to talk about it?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt nods. “I’m sure,” he says, returning to his work.

“Alrighty then. We’re still cool?”

“Still cool.”

“Good,” Sebastian says, tossing his briefs into the trash. “That’s … that’s good.”

Sebastian backs away slowly to get ready for that shower.

And he’ll hide Kurt’s scissors in case anything changes.


End file.
